I, Ozai
by sohawkeward
Summary: The Phoenix King remembers himself just moments before the Avatar takes his life.
1. Prologue

A/N: I thought of writing Ozai when I stumbled upon a bad case of writer's block. In addition to trying out something new, I'm also taking the chance to explore this character since I don't see much of it here on ff. I feel like Ozai is much more than Fire Lord or Phoenix King and this is my attempt at unraveling him. There will be a few parts to this, and I'll probably be done with it soon and then get back to my other fic.

* * *

**I, Ozai**

* * *

**Prologue**

He looks up into the eyes of the Avatar—the boy that would be his killer. He then takes a look around, briefly, and takes in his surroundings. The world—_his _world—was on fire, as it should have been since his grandfather's time. It would be the last thing he remembers before he dies, he thinks.

Ozai turns his gaze back to the young monk. _Death by the hands of a mere child…what honor is there? _He stops struggling against his earthen bonds and freezes when Aang touches him, one thumb pressing against his chest and the other pressing against his forehead.

_What is he doing?_

Something seems to split apart within him when the Avatar's eyes and tattoos glow bright blue. Ozai's jaw hangs loose as he tries to scream, but he does not hear his voice. He is vaguely aware that he is dying and wishes the airbender would make it quicker.

When everything goes white, Ozai remembers for the last time.


	2. The Things He Does Not Tell

**1**

He is five when he first firebends. He watches how his flame lights up the eyes of his older brother and the guards and servants in the royal garden. He has never felt the heat of his own fire before, and finds that he enjoys the sensation. So he does it again and again, all the while beaming at his own element.

Iroh claps him on the shoulder, lightly enough so he does not stumble under his brother's strength. "Come," kind, golden eyes greet him as he turns, "Let's go tell Father the great news."

Ozai takes Iroh's hand and they run past the servants and guards, pushing if they have to, and race through the door and down endless hallways until they reach their father's throne room.

The Crown Prince's presence makes it easy to gain an audience with the Fire Lord, and Ozai follows his brother's shadow, cast by the wall of fire that greets them. He comes to a stop when Iroh does, and squints up at the Fire Lord.

His father is but a shadow behind the flames. Ozai quietly wishes that he can bend that much fire one day, too.

But he wishes to see his father's face more.

"Father, we bring great news," Iroh announces, barely able to suppress the smile on his face. At their father's nod, Iroh turns to Ozai and drops to his knees. "Go on," he urges quietly. "Show him what you can do."

Ozai steps toward the dais and forgets what to do immediately. He looks over his shoulder, frightened. Iroh meets his gaze and his face lights up with a bigger smile.

"Breathe," Ozai sees his brother mouth.

He turns back to his father, still sitting behind his wall of fire, and does exactly as he is told.

He thrusts his fist out like he did earlier that morning, and a fireball, twice the size of the first one he made, sails toward the Fire Lord. Ozai steps back in horror when it tears through the wall and heads directly for his father, but the Fire Lord extinguishes it with a lazy wave of his hand.

Ozai falls into Iroh's arms, shaking as he watches his father rise from his throne. The Fire Lord waves his hand again, and the wall of fire shrinks along with his youngest son.

When he steps through and descends the stairs to meet his sons, Ozai bites back a cry.

"Show me again," Azulon says. Says, and not commands.

Ozai forgets all about his fear and gets back on his feet, Iroh holding his shoulders firmly. He meets his father's eyes, and sees that they are not harsh or unwelcoming.

So he firebends again. And again, and again until his father's lips curl upwards in a faint smile, approving. At first Ozai thinks it is the shadows and light playing tricks on him, but then Azulon gets on his knees so they are both level for once.

"We begin your training tomorrow, Prince Ozai."

It is in that moment that Ozai finally feels like his father's son.

* * *

**2**

He is on par with Iroh when he turns thirteen.

"Finally!" Ozai says as Iroh tumbles over. He is not sure who started laughing first, but basks in the moment as his brother hooks an arm around his neck and pulls him to the ground.

"I am so proud of you, little brother," Iroh smiles down at him, looking exhausted for once. Strands of hair hang loose, framing a face that reminds Ozai so much of their mother. Ozai does not tell him, but when Iroh smiles at him, he sees Ilah.

He pushes Iroh's arm away with a grin. "I'm not little anymore!" he announces, puffing his chest out for good measure. "I beat the Crown Prince!"

"Does that mean you can have my crown?"

It is a teasing remark, but Ozai takes it seriously. He remembers his place, and shakes his head until his world spins slightly.

"No, I can't! You're the Crown Prince. I'm not allowed to take your crown, no matter what I do," Ozai tells Iroh, but something tells him that he is reminding himself instead. He looks away. "It's not funny, Iroh."

"Don't take me so seriously, I was only joking." Iroh shifts up beside him and puts an arm around Ozai. "Anyway…your headpiece came off. Here."

Ozai stretches out his hand before he looks at Iroh. When he feels the weight in his hand, he looks down in surprise. The light bounces off the Crown Prince's headpiece brilliantly, and it is much heavier than he expects.

He nearly drops it, but Iroh swipes it before it hits the ground. In one swift movement, the proof of his brother's title was placed on his head, fitting in neatly with his topknot. Ozai rushes to the edge of the pond and looks into the water.

His reflection is not what he expects.

"Crown Prince Ozai," Iroh chuckles behind him.

Ozai does not tell him, but he sees Azulon in the water.

* * *

**3**

At fifteen, Ozai speaks with his father about his future.

They are standing at the edge of the balcony in the Fire Lord's suite, overlooking the expanse of their capital city. Ozai thinks about how glorious it would be to rule over this nation, but stops himself when he realizes it means he is wishing his brother dead.

"What happens after we win the war, Father?"

Azulon meets his gaze. There is something heavy in the man's golden eyes, dimming the light in them. "We rebuild this world and call it our own."

Ozai looks away, frightened by the look in his father's eyes. Frightened that Iroh would one day look the same, and frightened that he wanted to take over that weight instead.

"Is the Avatar really gone?" he asks.

"It seems that way," Azulon replies with a wistful tone. Ozai glances briefly at his father and sees the anguish in his eyes.

"You don't believe so."

"No, I do not."

"Brother isn't worried, but I am," Ozai inclines his head when Azulon looks at him. He has grown to avoid his father's watchful gaze over the years, as if afraid that Azulon knew his thoughts about the crown.

"What is the point of this observation, Prince Ozai? Speak your mind," Azulon commands. Commands, and not says. Ozai shrinks slightly at the heavy tone of his father's voice.

He fumbles for words like how he is fumbling with his hands.

"You need someone to continue the hunt," Ozai says. "If Iroh does not bother himself with the issue of the Avatar, then he will leave an open door for…" He stops when Azulon's eyes flash dangerously and suddenly finds it hard to breathe. Over the years, he has learnt it is easier to fear his father than love him.

"Watch yourself, Prince Ozai. You will not speak ill of the Crown Prince, especially not in my presence."

Ozai straightens his back and sucks in his breath. "Of course, Father. Forgive me."

The silence between them is heavy. Ozai is almost deafened by the noise of all they are not saying.

"You are not wrong, Prince Ozai," Azulon says a moment later, as if regretting his harsh tone from before. "The Water Tribes have not found their Avatar, and it is impossible for the Avatar spirit to be born into the Earth Kingdom." He clears his throat. "Your brother knows this as well as any of us. You should not fear."

"I don't," Ozai insists. He clenches his fists in a bid to keep his anger down. "But I feel like I don't have anything important to do except being the—the prince. Not that I don't like being your son, but I want to contribute to the war effort. I want to _help_. Let me hunt the Avatar."

Azulon's eyes turn curious, blazing in the light of the evening sun. For a moment it looks like he is about to say something, but then he raises his hand to stop Ozai.

"No."

"No?"

"I know your loyalties are with the Fire Nation and your father," Azulon says, "and that is enough for me to receive from you."

Ozai does not tell, but it is not enough for him to receive from his father.

* * *

**4**

Ozai is twenty when he meets his nephew.

Iroh is as proud as he's ever been, holding the new prince in his arms. Lu Ten is wrapped in red silk, the finest of the Fire Nation. Ozai studies his nephew carefully until Iroh lifts the baby up to him. He jumps back like a wary animal.

"What are you doing—"

"Well, go on," Iroh insists with a grin. "I know you want to hold him."

Ozai narrows his eyes. "No, I think I'd rather leave that to you. I might drop him."

As if aware of his rejection, Lu Ten bursts into tears. His wails fill the suite like an unending siren, grating on Ozai's nerves and eardrums. The Crown Prince looks just as alarmed as his brother and meets his gaze.

"Hold him!" Iroh takes a step forward.

Ozai steps back, gaze flicking from his brother to his new nephew. "He's _your _son!"

"_Man up!_"

Ozai finds himself holding Lu Ten before his actions register in his mind. His eyes widen in shock when the infant stops crying altogether and settles into his arms. Large, golden eyes stare up at him curiously and Ozai has to admit that it is an endearing sight.

"Well, well," Iroh chuckles. "My brother is good with children, after all!"

"And you're not? You're his father."

Iroh smiles. "I know." He claps Ozai on the back. "I can't wait to meet your children and hold them, one day."

"If I even have children," Ozai says. His gaze is still fixed on Lu Ten, and he begins to feel a pull towards the little child in his arms.

He does not tell, but he despises Lu Ten because he is further from the throne than ever.

* * *

**5**

When he is twenty-one, Ozai meets Ursa for the first time.

He immediately forgets that he is there for Lu Ten's first birthday, and draws up beside the beautiful woman quietly. She takes notices of his presence all too quickly, however, and steps away in shock. Ozai is about to tell her to stop when she breaks into a low bow, out of fear or reverence he will never know. His heart is hammering for reasons still unknown to him.

"Your Highness," she greets him. Ozai wonders how it is possible that her voice is so much like velvet and suppresses a shudder. "It is an honor to be in your presence."

He waves it off quickly and glances at her. "This ball was not thrown in honor of me," he says with a brief smile. "I thought I could blend in with the crowd, but I guess not."

She looks at him strangely, and it is the boldest anyone has ever been in front of him. He feels heat creeping up his neck and tugs at his collar. _The air is too thick in the ballroom_, he thinks irritably. _Why did brother invite so many people?_

"You want to blend in? Why?" Her voice snaps him out of his thoughts and he nearly jumps to attention. The effect she is having on him is nothing less than terrible, and Ozai regrets approaching her in the first place.

Ozai shrugs, but avoids her gaze. There is something almost _devastating _about her, a kind of beauty that can crush him if she knows how. "I don't like the attention." He nods towards the open balcony on the other side of the room. "Shall we?"

He knows it is only because of his title that she accepts. Ozai welcomes the breath of fresh, cold air as they step outside together.

"What is your name?" he asks, turning to her.

"Ursa, Your Majesty." She bows again, but Ozai stops her midway. His hands fall on her shoulder and he swears he feels electricity. He has only just begun lightning generation, but he has never felt sparks like these.

"No, stop," he tells her gently. "Don't treat me like my brother or my father. I am Ozai, and you will call me just that."

Ursa looks up at him with an uncertain smile on her lips. He shudders as he retracts his hands, and wonders what it is about Ursa that has him on edge. "If you insist…Ozai."

He does not tell, but he enjoys the way she says his name.


	3. The Things He Does Say

A/N: Terribly sorry about the slow update. Hope everyone's having a great start to the new year so far!

* * *

**6**

He is on the ledge, watching the moon as it watches the capital city. He thinks of nothing but Ursa, nothing but her golden eyes and the way her laughter sounded like bells chiming in the wind.

"You can see her again, you know," Iroh says from the doorway. "The prince's birthday."

"Lu Ten has already had his birthday."

"I meant yours, little brother."

* * *

Ozai sucks in his breath and breathes as if it were for the first time.

He sits in the study room, finding solace in the quietness of it. The large enough room was adorned with portraits of great battles and Fire Lords past, as though they were there to serve as a reminder to whoever came in that the nation was all-powerful, and that was the all the answer they needed. A lone candle sits before the Fire Prince, a gentle intrusion in the dimness of his surroundings. He'd purposefully lowered the flames of the lamps in the room; he did not want any intrusions tonight.

All except one he was willing to overlook.

The knocks on the door were hard to ignore and Ozai looks up from his desk, already aware of whom his visitor was. "Come in."

The ornate door, red and gold like everything else, swung open and let light from the outside flow in, illuminating the study for a moment. The officer, with eyes sharper than the dagger on her belt, scans the room almost confusedly before meeting Ozai's gaze. Her amusement is piercing.

"What, haven't you told them about wanting to write your own birthday invitations yet?" She closes the door behind her at the wave of his hand and leans against it, arms crossed over her chest and amber eyes glinting. She has a topknot, as neat and in place as it's ever been. It would be unlike her to show any sign of sloppiness, Ozai notes. Two long locks of hair frames her angular face, swaying as she moves towards him. She takes a look at the parchment on his desk and Ozai automatically moves his arm over it. "Don't be such a baby. Let me look."

"It's just _one_, and no. I just need you to help me, that's all." He doesn't know why he's feeling particularly small—he never has, especially not in front of her. "Just tell me what you think would be sincere."

"Well, that would depend on the kind of sincerity you want."

He raises an eyebrow, and considers believing her. "How about the best kind?"

She makes a face at him and the corners of his lips twitch. She raps her fingers on the desk, but not too unceremoniously. He still demands proper conduct and decorum from subjects, after all. "Come on. Give it to me."

"Give it to me, _what?_" he asks, just because he can. She works her jaw for a few moments and he watches her, a grin creeping onto his face. "Officer Sze Li?"

"Alright, I'm supposed to be the one putting you in a spot," Li sighs and heads for the door, "but it looks like you're trying to an ass, as usual. A façade for your embarrassment, of course; nothing I wouldn't expect from Prince Ozai."

Ozai rolls his eyes. He cannot deny the truth in her words. "A _royal _ass."

"A royal ass," she agrees, and stops to look at him over her shoulder. He sees the half-grin on her face and knows she would never pass up such an opportunity. She never has. And he is right to think so. "Well then, Your Wonderfulness, may I look at what you've done on that desk?"

He considers just sending her out there and then because his heart is suddenly at his throat.

And gives in.

"Alright, here." He withdraws his arms from the desk and she struts over, visibly pleased. He watches her as she scans his handwritten invitation. Her eyes are quick, or perhaps his message was too short, too rubbish to be considered 'good enough', and she hands the parchment back to him with an unreadable face.

"Well?" he asks, tapping the butt of his brush on the wooden surface. "You think it's crap, don't you?"

"Royal crap, if it makes you feel any better."

"It doesn't."

She settles into the seat across him, trying to bite back what he knew was laughter. He sighs and retrieves a fresh piece of parchment and lays it over the old one. "Help me out here, will you? I've been in here for hours and nothing seems to sound right!"

Li shakes her head, smiling to herself. "I can't believe it. The Fire Prince finally loses his composure and no one else is around to see it." She laughs and clutches her sides, and Ozai feels himself shrink even further. He drops his head into his hands and groans.

"I shouldn't have asked you," he says aloud, but it only seems to make her laugh even more. "Agni, what did I do to deserve this? At the rate we're going, I'll only see her when I'm thirty."

"Relax, my prince," Li wipes the tears from her eyes and Ozai feels no more comforted than when he did the moment he began his first draft. "Just tell me… everything. Pretend I'm Lady Ursa," her eyes twinkle with more than just the light from the flame as she leans in, "and tell me everything you'd say to her."

So he does.

And he believes he's doing a good job, because Li is smiling and no longer just laughing. He finally puts it all down in ink. "Damn, that was… that took a while."

"No kidding," Li says, stretching as if she had been the one straining her mental capacities for the last three hours. Ozai gives her his dirtiest look and she responds with a sheepish grin. "I'm sure she'll like it, Ozai. I promise. Now stop looking at me like that—you owe me, remember?"

"I owe you," he nods. "I will keep my word."

She smiles like she can't wait for the day she demands for a favor from the prince himself. "I know you will."

* * *

"So I heard someone's been busy," Iroh says loudly as he walks in, Lu Ten in his arms. Ozai turns to face his brother and hides his displeasure at the ruination of sweet, sweet silence. "You know I'll tell Lady Ursa about this when you two get married, right? Your meltdown and the all-nighter in the study."

"If we get married," Ozai corrects Iroh, though he likes the sound of certainty. "And who told you I stayed up last night?"

"Can't say." Iroh settles down on the edge of Ozai's bed. Ozai watches his nephew instead of his brother. "The little birdie wants to keep her neck, I expect."

Ozai rolls his eyes. "I knew she'd tell you sooner or later. I'll have to talk to her about that."

"Well if she doesn't tell me, would you be the one?" Iroh asks, catching Ozai off guard. His gaze is no longer on Lu Ten, the gurgling, sleepy-eyed baby, but Iroh. Already, fatherhood has given him some grey hairs. Ozai hopes it will not one day do the same to him. "We hardly talk anymore, what with you disappearing for prolonged periods of time… what else have you been up to, my little brother?"

"Sitting in at meetings, the ones you do not attend. I feel the need to know more about what's happening in the war." Ozai shoots Iroh a stare loaded with accusation. "You are always nowhere to be found; I'm surprised Father hasn't said a word yet."

"I have Lu Ten, but not my wife," Iroh notes, sadness seeping in already. Ozai shifts uncomfortably in his spot. "I don't want Lu Ten to be without his father when he is already without a mother. Father understands. I was hoping you would, too."

"He will one day be without a father if you continue to be so thoughtless," Ozai barks, and feels only the slightest twinge of regret. "If I could fight in the war in your place, brother, I would. But Father disallows my participation. I do not know why." He lowers his voice near the end when he sees the hurt on Iroh's face. "I am not blaming you for it."

"Father only cares, Ozai. He will not send both sons out on the field to die, effectively ending his line there and then."

"He will not send _me_, because a military history will only gain me favor, it seems." Ozai tries not to sound too harsh, but he cannot help it. He clenches his fists. "He fears that I will become the popular younger prince and people will not take your ascension. Or that you will forever be in my shadow, even as Fire Lord."

Iroh's eyes fall and the older prince mulls over the words of his brother. "I have been absent ever since Lu Ten's birth," he agrees with an air of melancholy about him. "But I do not regret it. My son needs me. And you forget—inheritance of the throne is given from father to son. I am his son, and I am the oldest." Iroh tries to smile. "No public objection can break that tradition. Do not be so hard on yourself, Ozai. Father knows your potential. He _will_ acknowledge it."

Ozai knows he should be somewhat reassured by Iroh's words, perhaps even elated because it meant his military participation would do nothing to offend Azulon, but he isn't happy. He tries not to resent Iroh, tries not to hate Lu Ten.

Because the fact still stands: he will not be Fire Lord.

"One day he will be glad of your love," Ozai says, rising to his feet. He looks long and hard at Lu Ten, who meets his gaze with a confused stare. "He will make a great Fire Lord, as you will before him."

He does not look at Iroh, and leaves the room without another word.


	4. His Ambition

**7**

"I think we all agree here that should Ba Sing Se fall, the entirety of the Earth Kingdom will too. It is paramount to the Fire Nation's swift victory. The attacks must be continued."

Silence, save for the sharp crackles of Azulon's flames, reigns in the chamber. Ozai sits at the head of the table with arms tightly crossed, eyes training on the red and green markers scattered across the map before him and the others. He leans forward to inspect Ba Sing Se and its outlying villages and colonies. The green easily outnumber the red and Ozai looks up to his father, tries to stare at the man behind his flames.

"Ba Sing Se," Azulon's voice reverberates like a shattering echo, cold enough to extinguish his own flames. The general that had spoken, Shan, dares to look into the wall of flames. He flinches when Azulon slams a fist down on his armrest, and the flames grow taller. Angrier. "I will not allow it. We do not touch that city again, not yet. I have lost two generals in the assault on Ba Sing Se alone. I do not yet know what goes on in Omashu—and I am not hoping for the best. What makes you think I will throw more men to Earth Kingdom wolves so quickly, General Shan, when all you know is how to squander our men, our resources?"

Ozai nods only slightly to himself, eyeing Shan. _He has given nothing but empty words. He has no backbone but only the power to sacrifice the men. _He looks away when Shan's gaze flickers towards him. _There should be more capable leaders in war, Father. Why can't you see?_

"With all due respect, Fire Lord, if we discontinue the assault on the Earth Kingdom's greatest fortress, I fear we may lose the war altogether."

The flames dim for only a fraction of a second before they tower over the collection of shivering generals and one Fire Prince, licking hungrily at the ceiling. Azulon's shadow moves in a single jerk forward. "You would sooner demonstrate power foolishly than act like a true thinker, a man who knows war! Tell me, General, do you hope to subdue the enemy through methods of intimidation? Do you think these earthbenders will not stand their ground or even return to the field with numbers increasing tenfold?"

Shan seems to be swallowing with effort and he is lost for words. Ozai looks over the other generals who all seem to be content with staying out of trouble. Their eyes are either on the map or elsewhere—anywhere but on Shan, lest he ask for help, or the Fire Lord. Bujing looks up and meets Ozai's gaze, and shakes his head. _The man is doomed _he seems to say. Ozai finds no trouble with agreeing.

"Earth Kingdom forces are overpowering our men," Shan tries again. "If our men are driven out, the Earth Kingdom will have time to recover their losses and recuperate. And then they will come back with a vengeance."

"Your suggestions are fruitless ones," Azulon says, and Shan shrinks into his seat. "You have nothing more to offer me but _daydreams _out of a boy's head. You will remain quiet for the rest of this meeting and watch. Now," the Fire Lord pauses and reclines against the throne again, "Prince Ozai, I would like to hear your input on this. Our forces are suffering in the Earth Kingdom, battered by the earthbenders. What say you?"

Ozai jerks and stares up at his father's shadow, unused to being addressed directly—especially during a war meeting. Suddenly all eyes are on him, even Shan's, and they are heavy with expectation and hope. His hands curl into fists and his entire body stiffens.

He thinks he is beginning to understand the weight he sees in Iroh's eyes, the weight that is also present in Azulon's.

"I do not think it beneficial to have brutes leading our men," he starts, willing himself to be confident. "I believe a change in leadership will make all the difference. Someone must look out for our numbers first before burning Ba Sing Se. Patience and wisdom is key."

"A change in leadership, you say?" Azulon echoes, voice lilting with interest, "Do you have a candidate in mind, prince?"

"Fire Lord, I believe it is for the Fire Nation's best interests that you send one disciplined enough to know what risks to take and what is better left untouched." Ozai stops and takes in a breath. "Send _me_."

Silence falls again, and this time, the ringing in Ozai's ears is louder than ever.

* * *

"How was it?" Li asks, stepping up beside him and leaning against the balcony's railing. She is looking at him with thinly veiled concern, a softer side of herself that no one but Ozai himself is privy to. He should feel comforted by this, but he is not. His rage has subsided, but the storm has not died off.

"He said no. Said I wasn't ready, right in front of all those generals," Ozai spits, grimacing. "I told him I could do it, I could lead the men, but he refused. I _am _ready, but he wants me to believe otherwise. And maybe…" He drops his gaze and looks away. "Maybe I am what he says I am."

Li strikes the top of the ledge with her palm, a sharp, thunderous sound in the middle of their quiet companionship. Ozai has never known Li to be a gentle woman—really, he thinks she is the younger brother he never had—but she rarely looks at him the way she looks at something less, like a lowly wretch on the streets.

But he knows there is a difference. A decade of friendship does nothing less than that.

"Don't talk about yourself that way!" Her eyes are afire, but it is anger not directed at him. "You're no less than Iroh, you're no less than your father. You know this, Ozai—you know what you're made of."

"He doesn't see it," Ozai shakes his head. "His attention is spent on petty fools like Shan, reprimanding and reprimanding as if it would make a difference to the man. He does not touch the princes because he is an old fool, afraid his line will end where he sits if his sons die on the battlefield…a pity, really, because we could make a difference." He rests a hand on the ledge and sighs. "_I _could make a difference."

"You _can_," Li insists, taking a step closer to him. "The Fire Lord just needs…he needs to see you as more than just his child."

Ozai snorts. "You think he _loves _me, Li? No, if he had to love anyone," he looks down on the caldera city, though his thoughts were elsewhere, "it would be my older brother. Iroh was always the favorite, and now…now there's Lu Ten."

"You think your father's opinion will sway when you have children of your own?"

"No." Ozai shakes his head, the idea ridiculous to him. "The oldest will be placed first in line for the throne. You know this and I know this. It's been as such for as long as the records show. I cannot supersede it."

"But—"

He puts up a hand to stop her. "Enough. There will be no more of such talk. It…it's beginning to sound like treason."

"Fine, fine," Li sighs, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. She looks away as well. "It's just that this has been going on for as long as I can remember. You were always crying in school because your father picked Iroh instead to head out and visit the people…"

Ozai laughs wistfully, though it did nothing to curb the bitterness inside. "Li, I was twelve. I was just a boy."

"You were. And now here you are," Li turns to face him, her lips stretching into a smile. Warm as ever, Ozai thinks. "You're so…"

He raises an eyebrow, interest lilting. "I'm so what?"

She looks at him, blinks and then turns away. Shock flashes across her features for a split second, but Ozai can't be sure. "You're just different, that's all. More princely than ever."

"You mean I'm pompous? Arrogant? Possibly intimidating?"

"Yeah, all of the above. But for all that, Ozai," Li is staring into her palms, spread open before her, "you're a good man."

He can think of nothing to say to that and wonders when his old friend became so sentimental.

* * *

"Father told me about what happened at the meeting. You were not at dinner."

Ozai keeps his back to Iroh and rests his elbows on the window's ledge. He looks over the caldera city not for the first time that day and loses himself in its splendor, its magnificence. Even under the light of the moon, the city retains its fiery countenance. Ozai thinks that similarly, even in the face of adversity, the Fire Nation and its people will still stand and fight. Pride envelopes him.

_A powerful land, with powerful people. Is it wrong of me to want to be its steward, its leader?_

"Ozai?"

He turns on his heels and looks straight at Iroh. He suddenly remembers how much the man looked like their mother and relaxes, clasping his hands behind his back. The memory of Ilah soothes the tension in his body, his spirit. "I wasn't feeling up to it," he says, meeting Iroh's patient gaze. "Let's not talk about what happened in the meeting."

"Why not, little brother?" Iroh steps into his room, into his space, and Ozai is tempted to either send him out or walk out himself. But he doesn't, and he realizes it is because he does treasure the time his brother gives him.

And then he realizes he is beginning to see Iroh like Azulon.

"Alright, let's not talk about that." Iroh grins, the laugh lines on his face so familiar that Ozai's facial muscles jump in his jaw as well. "What about Lady Ursa and the great courtship? Tell me about _that_, at least. Even Father seems interested, you know."

"He does not." Ozai shakes his head. "And it's not courtship, not yet. It was only one letter. One invitation. She might not even turn up."

"Such little faith," Iroh playfully chides, chuckling. He reaches up and strokes his growing beard. "I, however, think the good lady will indeed show up for you. You did not see her face when she left after speaking to you, little brother."

Ozai snaps to full attention. "Why didn't you mention that before?"

Iroh merely grins, and Ozai tackles the older prince out into the hallway, landing at the feet of the Fire Lord himself.


	5. Dissonance

**8**

_Come, Iroh. I have much to discuss with you._

Ozai breathes against the concrete wall, hearing nothing but his own heaving. His fingertips burn as if he had been firebending; in reality he has been clawing at the wall since he arrived. The training post is empty save for the prince; he treasures this moment of solitude. No one must see him this way. Princes of the Fire Nation do not act like this.

He presses his forehead against the cool, uneven surface. He tries not to get angry, tries not to think about how Azulon's eyes glazed over him as if he were invisible, as if Iroh had been the only person standing there.

He tries not to remember how he almost called after Azulon like a pathetic _brat_ – he is better than that. He _should be _better than that.

His thoughts betray him and Iroh's face comes to surface, followed by a hundred voices all at once, screaming for the unthinkable.

_Brother must die._

"Ozai?"

Li's voice catches him off guard and he releases a breath he did not know he was holding. His hands drop to his sides and he straightens himself before turning to face the officer. He doesn't like putting up a front before his old friend but she has caught him at a bad time.

"What are you doing here?" Li asks, voice laced so tightly with concern that Ozai unconsciously takes a step back. He hits the wall and feels cornered, but he remembers that this is Li and not Azulon or Iroh he is facing.

He avoids her gaze. "I could ask the same of you."

Footsteps signal her approach and he considers running away.

"I'm doing my rounds before heading back. Now tell me what _you're _doing here in the middle of the night alone."

Ozai glares at the ground. _What am I supposed to say? That I'm angry I didn't get any _attention _from the Fire Lord? That I want my brother to – _

He struggles to complete that thought and closes his eyes in frustration. "I just needed some air. Get back to your rounds, Li."

"You don't face a wall and try to bring it down with your own two hands and call that _needing some air_." Li is so close to him now and he thinks he feels the heat of her gaze on him. "Talk to me."

"You wouldn't understand," Ozai says defensively, though he still looks up. Something immediately softens in her gaze, as if she sees something more than just the royal gold in his eyes. They remain that way for a while before he suddenly slips out of her shadow, pushing past her and walking toward the center of the field.

"Try me," she says, still standing somewhere behind him. He doesn't care to look; a part of him is unable to bear the way she is looking at him. He keeps his gaze forward, unblinking.

"Ozai."

He ignores the dull ache in his chest when he hears the pleading in her voice, but allows himself to look. There is a shadow of despair on Li's face, the kind he hasn't seen before. He knows this woman to be a person of strength, fearlessness. The other guardsmen dare not provoke her; to this day, he still isn't sure whether it is because of her personality or because she has the second prince of the Fire Nation on her side.

Now, Ozai thinks Li looks nothing like the girl he met ten years ago. Then he remembers that he is nothing like he was ten years ago, either, and gives in.

"You would think me a monster," he says, throat hurting for one reason or another. "You wouldn't be able to look at me after."

The golden hue in Li's eyes darkens as she lowers her gaze, whether in disappointment or something else. "I thought we were way past that."

He feels winded. "We are! You just –" He throws his hands up and lets out a groan. "It's not that easy anymore, Li! We're different – _I'm _different! Don't you see?" He turns on her, meeting her sad gaze again. He feels anger rising in his chest like the bile in his throat is at the thought of what she wants to know from him. "I'm not always going to be this _good _in your eyes! Stop dreaming! Stop _dreaming! _Not all princes are perfect and good and – Li?"

The tears in her eyes reflect moonlight, and more. He backs away unable to remember when he cornered her and began yelling in her face like a lunatic. His cheeks are afire with embarrassment, with shame.

_Monster. _He clenches his fists, preparing to walk away. When he actually takes a step away, Li catches his wrist in her hand and pulls him back. He doesn't think of resisting and follows her movement, coming face to face with Li again. What comes after is not what he expects.

She might as well have been firebending at the same time; his cheek stings with the impact of her slap, a white hot pain he is not sure he wants to be familiar with.

He brings a hand up to his hurting cheek as he returns his gaze to Li, speechless.

_Did she just –_

"What have the last _ten_ years been for? What happened to being _honest_ with each other all the time, Ozai?"

Li is furiously blinking back her tears but a stray one rolls down her cheek; Ozai chases it with his eyes, contemplating wiping it away but considers the implications and the prospect of getting another slap. _Better not try anything. _He holds still.

"You think I'm just going to up and leave after hearing something – something disappointing or imperfect coming out from your mouth? _What do you take me for? Answer me!_" She raises a hand, ready to strike him again, and this time he is prepared for it.

"Accept my apology –" he tries, but the look in her eyes tell him that she is far from accepting anything from him.

"I don't _want _your apology! I want your truth! I want to feel like I'm still your friend and not one of your. _Court_. _Subjects_!" She lowers her hand and jabs his chest painfully with every abrupt pause and punctuates her frustration with one last almighty push, and he stumbles back.

Shock registers first then anger follows quickly. Doesn't she _know _what she's asking for?

He catches her wrist now as she advances on him and tightens his grip so much that she freezes in her step. His voice is dark, low enough just for the both of them to hear. "You can't follow me. I threaten the life of the Crown Prince himself."

Li's eyes widen. "What – what are you saying…"

Ozai resists the urge to smirk, or laugh at her, as he releases her from his grip. _I told you I'm different now. I told you, but you didn't listen. You never listen to me, Li._

"That's treason," she breathes. "You said –"

"Forget what I said." Ozai bites back the bitterness in his mouth. He begins to pace up and down before the speechless guardswoman. "You don't know how Father _looks _at me, or how he _doesn't _look at me. You don't know how it feels to have spent so many hours in his court, brooding over tactic after tactic, never sleeping because I'm too busy trying to impress him the next morning…and what for? He always has eyes for Iroh and only my brother. It's like –" His breath hitches and the ache in his chest seems to sharpen. _Is this heartbreak?_ "It's like he never had a second son. I am never enough for him. Iroh does _nothing _and yet he's getting _everything_. How is that _right_?"

"It's not," Li says, voice lowered. "But are you really ready to kill your brother?"

"Are you ready to watch me do it?" He meets her eyes, hiding trembling hands behind his back. A part of him is hoping she has an answer for him, whether it is an attempt to sway him out of this madness or encourage him further. When she doesn't give him an answer, he chuckles - more to himself than to her.

"There," he says quietly. "You have our answer." He turns away from her. "Return to your rounds, Li. I'll see you in the morning."


	6. A Prince Unveiled

**9**

He takes the next day to wander in the city himself, telling no one but Li. Despite their awkward banter – a result of their simultaneous breakdowns the night before – she was still his friend, through and through. She had told him to be careful, too, before he left, but Ozai just smiled faintly.

What was there to fear in a city of your father's?

* * *

He takes off his headpiece first, setting it on the table. The faint glow of the morning sun bounces off the brilliant gold, and it seems to shine and come to life with a fire of its own. He turns his back to it and swings a brown cloak over his shoulders, covering up most of his prince's armor.

He wonders, for the briefest of moments, why he has to hide his face from his own people. Weren't leaders supposed to know their people, so that they knew how to protect them – their interests? He grips the edge of his cloak, fist clenching so hard he leaves creases on the brown fabric when he lets go.

Perhaps today will be the day for him to know his people, and they him.

He stalks out the door and the guards close it behind him. One of them steps forward when Ozai makes for the far end of the hallway, to the steps that lead down the tower.

"Prince Ozai, do you need one of us to accompany you?"

The Fire Prince shakes his head, eager to leave the palace and his princely status behind – for as long as he can, before the citizens recognize him on the streets. It is a cheap thrill, to feel like one of the men under royal authority, but it is a thrill nonetheless.

He doesn't actually know why he wants to feel this way, but then again, _anything _is better than his feelings of revolt, his desire for the birthright of the Crown Prince. He keeps walking. He moves his feet fast and faster, until he leaves his curious guards behind.

He stops when he reaches the staircase winding down and sits on the bottom step, just before the last flight. Strangely, Ozai feels short of breath. An aching throb in his head forces him to shut his eyes, and he suddenly feels the need to throw up. His skin crawls when Iroh chances upon him, standing at the bottom of the stairs with a look of pure _concern_.

Ozai drops his face into his hands, still trying to breathe deeply for air. _Why does he have to look at me like that? _He feels his brother rush to his side, plopping down on the steps.

"Ozai, what's wrong? You look –"

"Terrible?" Ozai sighs heavily, but keeps his face hidden. "I probably just need some air. That's why…I'm heading out." It wasn't a lie. Not really.

Iroh grips his shoulder, tense. "I'll bring you to a healer."

"No need." Ozai looks up at last, putting his hand atop Iroh's. He frowns in disapproval. "I know when I need to see one. I'm fine." He begins to stand up, but his brother holds him down. Now, it is Iroh's turn to look disapproving.

_So much like Mother, _Ozai distractedly thinks.

"You've been so closed off," Iroh's voice is a little more than a sharp whisper, as if he were afraid of anyone else overhearing. "You don't know how worried I've been, that you've been missing meals with us –"

"Us meaning you and the guards?" Ozai narrows his eyes, despite his better judgment. Now was not the time to get caught up in a fight with Iroh. The less they spoke, the better.

And yet, he had no idea what 'better' looked like.

Iroh looks like he is biting back his tongue before looking away, huffing. Something softens in his gaze when he looks back, his golden eyes reflecting more than just regret. Ozai felt an instinctive shudder ripple through his body, from the top of his spine downwards.

He resents everything to this point.

"It's not like Father doesn't ask after you," Iroh says, almost with an air of childish defiance. Ozai resists the urge to grimace and elects to look the other way; Iroh always did have a lot of love for both parents. Ozai had stuck with his mother.

If only he'd known then…the fragility of human life.

"Ozai."

The younger prince looks up absently. "I didn't say anything about Father."

"And that's what's the problem."

Ozai glares at Iroh, hands balling into fists, tight and painful. "You don't know a problem when you see one, then," he says darkly, leaping to his feet despite himself. His head – or the inside of it – whirls uncontrollably and he presses a palm to the wall; he will not fall before Iroh here. Not like this. Not ever.

He is halfway to a time of freedom and solitude when Iroh's voice catches him at the last moment.

"You know if I can't get anything out of you, I'll talk to Sze Li eventually, right?"

Ozai almost laughs. The muscles in his jaw twitch, either with irritation or extreme amusement he did not know. "You know she won't tell you anything, right?"

Iroh's silence was Ozai's victory.

* * *

He is alone for an hour, out in the streets – and then someone recognizes him. It is most definitely not who he expects. His cheeks begin to burn when she approaches him, a smile so bright on her lips he isn't sure if he is smiling himself or making a face at this point.

"Well, well, looks like we have a runaway." Ursa seems more lighthearted than usual, out in the open – perhaps that's what happens when one is away from high-nosed nobles and the intimidating higher ups. Ozai thinks he prefers Ursa this way, and then he remembers that he probably prefers her no matter who she chooses to be.

He realizes he is staring too long at her without saying a word, and manages a strangled laugh. He tugs at his collar.

"Don't tell anyone. I'm surprised you're the only one who noticed," he says, fighting the grin on his face.

Ursa's smile softens into something gentler. "I knew you by the way you walked."

"Really?" Ozai pretends to look skeptical. He feels himself failing. "That's…interesting. Care to tell me more, Lady Ursa? If you have the time, of course."

Ursa's laughter is all the answer he needs.

* * *

"You have this stance when you're walking," Ursa says, hugging the cup of tea in her hands and looking pointedly at the steaming liquid instead of Ozai. "It's kind of animalistic, like a lion or something…and yet, so regal." When she looks up at him with a smile Ozai chokes on his tea. He passes it off as a sneeze at the last moment.

Ursa didn't fall for it.

"You don't agree?" she asks.

He directs his gaze to the steaming cup of tea. "Well, no – I mean, yes I do agree –" He clumsily rises to his feet with the intention of walking away, if only to escape those hypnotizing eyes, but his knee hits the underside of the table and rocks the teacups, spilling some tea. He hisses and grabs the falling cups, his and Ursa's, and sets them back into place. "Forgive me, Lady Ursa –"

Ursa hides a smile behind her hand, shaking her head at him when their eyes meet. He lets out a strangled chuckle and tugs at his collar again.

They decide to leave the little teashop after several heads turn to stare at Ozai, some suspicious and others simply irritated at the commotion caused. Ozai takes Ursa down the winding streets, ignoring passing glances and using the crowd as cover. They end up on the outer walls of the palace some time later, walking through a villa, one of the many possessions of Fire Lord Azulon.

"I think it's better here," Ozai says, taking her through the empty residence and emerging into the villa's garden. "No one to see me here." He turns and gestures towards the inner garden when he sees the look of uncertainty on her face. "It's okay. This belongs to my father."

She relaxes a little, much to his dismay, but soon forgets her unease when she sees a family of turtle-ducks swimming in the pond at the center of the garden. Her eyes, even her whole face, seem to glow with childish excitement at the sight of the creatures in the pond – an excitement Ozai does not understand. Nonetheless, he follows her, and they settle down in front of the pond together, side by side.

She is cooing at the turtle-ducks happily when she notices that he is not doing the same. "You don't like them?"

"Well," he pauses to clear his throat, "they're not really my thing."

Ursa looks scandalized for a brief moment before she remembers whom she's with. "Well…" Then something strikes her – an epiphany of sorts. "Does anyone come here? Ever?"

"Not really, but if we have honored guests then we will house them here for the duration of their stay," Ozai explains. "Other than that, no one else, it seems."

"That's terrible!" Ursa says, and it seems she has forgotten once again that he is a prince, a man to be respected and feared. "Who's going to feed these poor things?"

Ozai lets out a laugh, loud and clear as day. He decides that he likes it when she forgets what he is.

"We have caretakers for every villa, my lady." Ozai beams when Ursa's cheeks turn pink. "How else do you think this place stays dust free? So these little ones are being fed day by day. They'll be fine."

"Oh," is all Ursa says, and they spend the next hour in silence as Ozai lets her feed the little ducklings in the pond. He still doesn't understand her love for these creatures, but he is at least glad she seems happy here.

He would do anything to make her happy.

He falls asleep some time later, sprawled on the grass beside Ursa. Somebody pokes him on the hand and he wakes up. A turtle duckling is pecking incessantly at his hand, having found its way into the water, and he pulls away irritably. He is still groggy with sleep.

It takes a moment for the panic to settle in when he realizes Ursa is no longer by his side. He removes his cloak and moves swiftly through the villa, searching every room and every inch of the place until he finds her in the main suite, looking out the window at the auburn sky above. He wonders how long he slept, and he wonders why she went away.

"Ursa?"

She jumps as if struck, turning to look at him. He notices her trembling and moves forward in concern. "What's wrong? You look so pale –"

"It's nothing," she says, turning away. "I'm just –"

"What's wrong?" he asks, moving up beside her. He takes her hand, but she is too quick for him. She withdraws her hands from the window ledge and hides them in her sleeves, as if she were afraid of being touched. As if she were afraid of him.

"You were sleeping." Ursa looks at him. "You…said some things in your sleep."

Ozai cocks his head to the side. "What things?" He does not remember having any dreams.

"You were talking about the Crown Prince, the Fire Lord your father," Ursa manages, avoiding his gaze now. "You said you hated them. You hated them very much."

"Did I…say anything else?"

Silence is his only answer, and he wants to hear no more. He wants to know no more. He takes her by the hands and he is faster than her this time – she gasps, afraid, but strangely does not pull away.

"I swear, I am not what you think I am," he says in a whisper, though they are very clearly alone in the room. "I'm not a bad person. I'm just…" He loses his strength and his shoulders droop. "I _am _human. I feel things. I feel too much." He looks away and releases her from his grip, almost embarrassed. He feels naked, so he turns away from her and crosses his arms over his chest.

He thinks she is gone before her voice startles him. "Do you want to talk…about this?"

"Talk?" Ozai lets out a breath. "I'm surprised you're still here."

"I was scared at first." She pauses, as if choosing her words. "But then I realized, when I saw the look in your eyes, that you're just as real as anyone else."

He looks over his shoulder at her. He sees the pity in her eyes – or was it sympathy? He did not want either one – not even from her. But he met her gaze, simply because he was curious.

"What do you mean by that?"

Ursa walks around him so they are standing face to face. In the late afternoon glow, she looks almost unreal. _A ghost of fire, _he thinks. _Come to haunt me for the rest of my life._

"Up until young Prince Lu Ten's birthday, I had never seen you, your brother or the Fire Lord before." She takes a step closer towards him. "And then I talked to you that night, on the balcony. I always thought of you as a faraway dream, and after I met you I thought – I thought you seemed so graceful, so perfect. It's foolish, but I believed princes like you only knew duty and honor and the power you're born with. I thought you knew nothing of our lives. The people."

Ozai bites his lip, tensing up at their proximity. He knows he is supposed to pay attention to what she's saying, but her eyes, the smell of her – he is intoxicated beyond all hope, and he doesn't want to come back from it.

"And?" he manages.

Ursa's lips stretch into a smile, slowly but surely. "And then you proved me wrong when you almost flipped the entire table over in the teashop."

He feels his cheeks burning.

"What about now?" Ozai asks. "Am I too real for your liking?"

"Maybe," she inclines her head in a slight nod. "But if it's not a dream, then I'm honored to know you as you are." Her smile is complete, and he is breathless – from the look on her face and her words. "I'm not afraid of you. Not anymore. I don't quite understand you fully…and why you said what you said. But we can talk about this, if you'll let us."

Us. It is such a sweet word. It washes away his bitterness, cleanses the rot inside him.

"It's not a dream. Is it?" Ozai turns his palms up and stretches them out to her. "This. You."

"Me?" Ursa looks down at his hands, uncertain but not uncomfortable. "What are you talking about?"

Ozai keeps his hands where they are.

"I just hope you're real like me, that's all. That you're not some faraway dream."

When she takes his hands in response, he feels something expand in his chest. He is suddenly all too aware of the heart beating in his chest, too loud and too fast. He forgets Iroh, forgets Azulon. He thinks he may be able to forget them forever if he stays in this moment. If she lets him.

The only thing he thinks of asking her after that is: "Did you receive the invitation I sent you?"

He figures he's not very good at being in love, but Ursa seems content with the way he is.

It should be enough.

No.

It _is _enough.

* * *

"_I know that the night must end, and that the sun will rise._

_I know that the clouds must clear, and that the sun will shine."_

-'Endless Night', The Lion King on Broadway

* * *

A/N: No, I'm not going all out with the fluff or romance from this moment on. I really don't think I'd like this story if Ursa/Ozai romance dominated it - that's not really the point of this fic. Thanks for reading and stay tuned or something. Though I'll probably take a while. But stay tuned anyway.


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